One Step Ahead
by Jamie552
Summary: ..."You two will never see each other again". And as easily as that, Dean's heart was pounding relentlessly in his chest . Missing scene from "Jus In Bello", One-Shot.


**Author's Note:** Incredibly random and disgustingly short, I know. After watching "Jus In Bello" a couple weeks ago, I found that there was one line that hit me pretty hard--when Henrickson says "You two will never see each other again". The look on Sam's face, especially, got my creative juices flowing. And this is the result lol Hope you like this little ficlet and for those of you who are waiting for "Free Will In Restraints", the next chapter will probably be posted tomorrow or Saturday.

Cheers! xoxo

**Disclaimer:** So...still don't own them. Last I checked, ownership belonged to Eric Kripke and company...

Lucky butts.

_______________________________________________

_Take a good look at Sam._

_You two will never see each other again._

And as easily as that, Dean's heart was pounding relentlessly in his chest.

The jail cell that he and Sam were sitting in was cold and dimly lit, the stone floor almost seeming to send a chill up through the soles of his hiking boots. His entire body felt weighed down, heavy, as if he hadn't slept in days; and he was sure that if his head didn't stop pounding, he might completely lose whatever stability he had left.

The sound of Henrickson's laugh was still echoing in the small cell block. The cheerfulness of it, the blatant happiness, was enough to boil every single drop of blood in Dean's body. Anger and frustration coursed through him like scalding hot water.

Dean Winchester was seething.

At Bella, the bitch, for calling the cops and putting them in such a piss poor situation in the first damn place.

At Bella, _again_, for stealing the Colt and forcing them to waste valuable time chasing her all over the friggin' country when there were a thousand and one things they would _rather_ be doing--like pretty brunettes, tequila shots and spending as much time together as was physically possible, something they both so desperately needed.

_I've never hit a woman in my life, but she's pushin' it, dammit!_

He felt like a caged animal.

Despite the fact that he was an older brother and despite the fact that he considered it a crime to appear anything other than calm and collected in front of Sam, deep down inside he was flipping out. It was too real; the iron shackles, the bars on the windows…the promise of a super-max, equipped with motion detectors and guarded doors.

He would lose both his baby brother _and_ his identity—his humanity—all at once.

"Dammit-" Dean's voice was a hiss and he glared through the bars. "Cocky son of a bitch."

"What're we gonna do, Dean?"

Sam's whisper reached Dean's ears and he instantly recognized the emotional undercurrents of his brother's voice—an unbridled anxiousness and fear. Dean could hear it even though he knew Sam was trying to keep his voice steady. "I dunno, Sam."

"We gotta get outta here."

"And how the hell to you propose we do that?"

"I don't care _how_ we do it, but we have to."

Dean turned his eyes down to the iron bonds that were clasped around his wrists, and also, clasped around Sam's. He couldn't even _stand_ to look down at the chains around their ankles.

He was already pissed off as it was.

As with most holding cells, there was only one way in or out—the enormous steel door, bars only a few inches apart, and a lock that Dean just _knew_ would be impossible to pick. The sorry excuse for a window was far enough off the floor that there was no way they could hoist themselves up to it. The shackles, coupled with the fact that neither brother was exactly _small_, made the scheme of possibly squeezing through the tiny frame as hopeless as magicianing themselves through the chicken wire that was bolted across the glass.

Unless they somehow lured in a guard and overtook him by _force_, they were right up the creek.

And, plus, if they somehow managed to _do_ that, they'd still be stuck in the middle of a semi-crowded sheriff's office—not to mention, the Impala had been towed somewhere mere moments after they'd been arrested.

They were unarmed, surrounded and without a means of escape.

They didn't stand a chance.

The hopelessness flooded Dean's chest, hit him like a battering ram, and for the shortest second he couldn't breathe. He could feel the cot dip slightly as Sam shifted his weight and it did nothing but make him feel worse.

"Dean?"

And there was his little brother, asking desperately what to do. Expecting Dean to have all the answers, just like he had when they'd been growing up.

But there were no answers to be had this time.

Dean had been shapeshifted onto the FBI's most wanted list.

And they'd salted-and-burned their way into a jail cell.

The older man's silence seemed to be answer enough and Sam gave a quiet chuckle, even though there was no humor in it whatsoever. "Kinda funny, isn't it?"

Letting out an angry breath, Dean turned his head to look at him. "What the hell could _possibly_ be funny 'bout this?"

"I don't mean funny…I just mean…_funny_-" Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Your deal's comin' due in a couple months and we're stuck in here."

Dean felt his face soften at the words and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. "Sammy."

"Just seems unfair, that's all."

Their _lives_ were unfair. If they hadn't learned _that_ over that final year, then hell, they hadn't learned a damn thing.

They seemed to have permanent targets pinned to their backs—cosmic _kick me_ signs that were only visible to the dregs of the supernatural community. It didn't matter where they went, where they holed up or how quickly they managed to cross state lines…there was always something stalking them, lurking in the darkness and following their every move.

For most of their lives they'd managed to stay one step ahead.

Another thing that year had taught them was that there was no such thing as _one step ahead._

It didn't exist. Not for them, anyway.

Sam was right, it _was_ unfair. Time for the past four months had done nothing but slip through their fingers; the harder they held on, the quicker it seemed to slide out from underneath them.

It's funny how when you dread something...when you put all your energy and hope into that _one day_ never coming to pass, the world seems to rotate ten times faster.

_You two will never see each other again._

If only their resident pain in the ass federal agent knew how definite, how ridiculously true those words were. If they were separated that night, there wouldn't be any hope for anything—no more research, no more ideas, no more painfully just-out-of-reach miracles.

The idea of hellhounds ransacking an isolation jail cell in Nevada made him feel sick and Dean had absolutely no trouble at all admitting it to himself.

The idea of living out his last few months away from the only person in the world he _needed_ to be around?

There wasn't much in the world that Dean Winchester was afraid of. But dying alone? Away from Sam? Caged like a rabid beast with absolutely _no_ escape?

It terrified him.

"Look, uh-" His voice cracked so he cleared his throat and tried again. "We'll figure it out, ok?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Orange jumpsuits aren't my style, Sammy. And they sure as hell aren't yours."

Dean watched as Sam finally turned towards him, his eyes impossibly sad.

And in those sad eyes, he could see the adorable little twerp that he'd _lived_ for—the kid he'd nurtured, protected and loved. The kid he'd clothed and bathed.

Sam had grown into a man, a fiercely loyal and affectionate man.

Dean had continued to live for him…but in the end, he had also _died_ for him.

And he'd be damned if he let some douchie cop put that heartbreaking look on Sam's face.

His bill was coming due in only a few months time, that was true, but until the second his heart stopped beating, he would be a big brother—he would nurture, protect and love until the end.

Because he'd already given up his soul…warmth and brotherly affection was all he had left to give.


End file.
